Let Sleeping Tank's Lie: A Cautionary Tale
by Adalind
Summary: Lester, Bobby and Zero have some fun at Tank's expense and end up shipped off to a third world country for their prank. Chaos ensues as they find themselves stuck in the middle of a civil war and have to protect a stubborn medic and her wounded charges.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: And this was supposed to be another one shot. Thanks to Dee for inspiring the muse.

**Let Sleeping Tank's Lie – A Cautionary Tale **

**Prologue**

Lester gathered the cosmetics off the desk and dumped them back in Steph's makeup case.

"Put it back in her desk drawer," he whispered to Bobby.

Bobby slunk off, hand over his mouth to suppress a snigger.

"Fuck, we are so dead," Zero giggled as he deftly arranged the pink feather boa.

"Gotta catch us first," Les replied with a shit eating grin, snapping a few pictures with his phone. He hit send, emailing them to his computer.

"You are so evil, man," Bobby chuckled as he returned. "You need to send those to the other offices."

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry, I'm on it." Lester said. "You know, I think he's missing something though."

The three Rangemen looked at the comatose Tank snoring at his desk, face covered in makeup and the feather boa around his neck.

Bobby snapped his fingers. "Got it. What he really needs to go with this is a tiara!"

* * *

**Let Sleeping Tanks Lie – A Cautionary Tale**

**Chapter 1**

"Ulk," Zero moaned as he woke up. His limbs were stiff and sore, like he'd gone 10 rounds in the ring with the boss. He cracked open a sleep encrusted eye and shut it again swiftly.

No, he thought, this cannot be right. He opened both eyes this time, ignoring the almost blinding pain in his head, and groaned. They never, ever, ever should have covered Tank in makeup, bedecked him with a hot pink feather boa, and emailed the picture around the whole company with the tag line: 'What he really needs to go with this is a tiara!'

Zero looked at his comrades in horror. Both Lester and Bobby were stark naked – apart from the tiaras they both had on top of their heads. Thankfully, the not-so-dynamic-now duo were still out of it. He reached up gingerly to touch his own head. Yup, he was wearing a tiara.

With a shaking hand he grabbed hold of the thin wire and pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled again – still nothing. And it was then that Zero took in his surroundings. The three of them were dumped at the back of a large, dirty cargo plane hold. Shit! How could they have been so stupid?

After three years at Rangeman, Zero had always heard the rumors about getting shipped to a third world country, but he'd always believed it to be an idle threat – a bit of a joke to scare the crap out of the new recruits.

But what about Hal? A little voice at the back of his head yelled. Sure, the boss told you that he'd sacked him for letting Steph out of the building and for getting zapped by his own stun gun, but was that the truth?

Had anyone actually seen Hal since he was fired? And Slick, and Eddie – Zero couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them either. He'd called Eddie not long after he left Rangeman, wanting his new address so he could post him back a DVD that he'd borrowed. The little tinny voice on the line had informed Zero that the cell number he'd dialed was no longer in service.

Fuck! The rumors were really true, and they were being shipped off to Namibia, or Uzbekistan, or god knows where, for making Tank look like an ass.

Movement at the corner of his eye made him look over at Lester.

Santos pulled himself up into a sitting position and groaned. "Not again," he muttered as he punched Bobby on the shoulder. "Wake up, bro!"

Bobby grunted and rolled over. "Not now, baby, l'll make love to you again later."

Les rolled his eyes, grimacing a little, and then punched Bobby again. "Oi, hot stuff, we have a situation here."

Bobby sat up with a start. "Who, what – oh not again!" he wailed.

Zero was shocked, this kind of thing had happened before? "Um, guys, what's going on?"

"Ever been to a third world country before?" Lester said with a grin.

"No," Zero answered warily.

"Well, I hope your shots are up to date, boy, 'cos we're going on holiday."

"But I thought it was a joke…"

Bobby hauled himself off the floor and brushed the dirt off his ass. "Nope, guess we pissed Tank and Ric off good this time. Still, I'm sure that it won't be as bad as the last little expedition."

"Do I want to know?" Zero asked apprehensively.

"In a word, no," Lester said. "We need to look for the envelope. There should be a manila envelope somewhere with the terms of this FURAR'd situation in it."

"How do you know there is going to be an envelope?"

Bobby grinned. "Well, there was the last three times. Just think of this as on the job training and you'll be fine. I suspect that we have three weeks to get back to Trenton to keep our jobs. Don't worry Zero, it'll be a piece of cake."

"Yeah," Lester smiled. "Stick with us and you'll be back home in no time."

"Stick with you?" Zero yelled. "If I'd ignored you two clowns in the first place, I'd still be in Trenton, rather than on my way to some third world hell hole!"

"Nah, guilty by association," Lester replied. "Unless you'd ratted us out to Ric or woken Tank up, you'd have still been in the shit. Look, we need to bust these crates open to see what we've got to work with. Go look for that envelope."

Resigned to his fate, Zero shuffled off on stiff legs to find the envelope. This was hell, and he was damn sure it was never in his contract of employment. Ten minutes later, he hit pay dirt, finding the afore mentioned envelope between a couple of crates. He extracted it carefully in case it was rigged to explode – anything was possible now, he figured.

_Gentlemen, please remember that company time is not to be spent in the pursuit of cheap laughs at the expense of a superior._

_You have three weeks to return to the Rangeman Trenton offices in order to safeguard your jobs. If you fail to return in that time, your contract of employment will cease. Though, if you are fortunate enough to return to base in the stipulated time frame, your misdemeanor will be forgotten._

_Ricardo C Manoso & P 'Tank' Thibideaux_

"Same old shit," Lester said with a shrug, as he tossed the note on top of a crate.

"We are so fucked!" Zero yelled.

Bobby patted him on the back. "It'll be a walk in the park, man. Nice tiara by the way."

******A/N: Do you ladies want more? Where has Ranger and Tank shipped them to? Will they ever get back to Trenton armed with nothing but their good looks, charm, wit and tiaras? Comments and suggestions please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Let Sleeping Tank's lie – A Cautionary Tale**

**Chapter 2**

Lester rubbed his hands over his face, and sighed. They really had done it this time, that was for sure. In the past, the crates had held something useful, but not on this occasion. Zero was freaking out, and even Bobby seemed a little concerned at their prospects of success on this little adventure.

In a nut shell, they were still naked and had little to use to get them back home. Those fucking tiaras were causing problems too. Thankfully his had only been woven into his long, light brown hair, and after a lot of cursing, it had come free. Bobby's had been embedded in his corn rows and the only way to remove it was to undo the tight braids, leaving Mr. Brown with a 4 inch afro. But Zero – damn that was harsh! The offending piece of metal had been super glued to his scalp. Nothing short of sticking his head in a bucket of warm water for an hour would shift it. Nail polish would have it off in a shot, but Ranger and Tank had not been kind enough to leave them with any of that. What also concerned Lester was that he was 99 percent sure that the accursed thing held a tracking devise. He and Bobby had learnt the hard way the first time they were abandoned in some hell hole, that it was imperative to lose the tracking devise at the earliest possible opportunity, otherwise they'd meet with a lot of Rangeman sponsored surprises along the way back home.

They had no money, no weapons and no clothes. The plane had started to fly over an unidentified land mass about 20 minutes ago as well, making Lester nervous. They had to get their shit together as this ride could be about to end at any minute. The usual SOP for a plane of this size was a twenty minute descent, and as far as he could tell, it was still maintaining altitude for the moment. Thank the gods for small mercies, he thought.

Bobby rubbed his chin again. By his calculations - based upon the last time he shaved, they must have been drugged while sleeping last night. The sun was high in the sky – nearing its zenith, and his stubble told him it was about 8 AM Trenton time – which meant that they must be heading for somewhere in Africa. Les was still sporting his goatee beard, which told Bobby that no one had shaved him while he was out if it, so his time-by-stubble-length theory should hold true right now. It looked like they still had a couple of tricks that Ranger and Tank didn't know about, but it was a cold comfort right now. It didn't matter where they were dumped; they still had to survive with nothing.

Those damn crates held a shipment of condoms, a load of children's toys – including some super soaker water pistols, and a box of pneumatic drills. Something nagged at the back of Bobby's brain – this shipment seemed familiar. He voiced his concerns to Lester.

Les chewed on his lower lip for a minute, his brow creased in concentration. "That film," he said, "You know – the one with thingy out of whatsit, and that bar and that famous director bloke."

Oh joy, Bobby thought. Twenty questions time with Lester. "No, can't say I do. You'll have to try harder than that, bro."

"That hot chick with the snake, and the dead things, and that cool tattoo at the end – It's on the tip of my tongue."

"_From Dusk 'Til Dawn_?" Zero piped up.

"That's the one!" Lester exclaimed. "Salma Hyeck – damn, she's a hottie."

The three men studied the crates again. Fuck! Some evil bastard had indeed watched that movie recently and decided to replicate the contents of the crates of stolen merchandize at the bar in the film.

"Do you think they have vampires in Africa?" Zero quizzed.

"No," Lester growled. "This is just the boss' idea of a sick joke."

"Didn't they have a cross bow in that film?" Bobby asked.

"Well they did," Zero stated, "But I haven't seen one yet. Maybe we need to look again."

Lester looked over the crates again, and then tipped the one full of condoms over. Thousands of little packets spilled to the dirty floor, but the crate contained nothing else. "Why do I get the feeling that they're making it really hard for us this time?" he mused. He righted the crate and something tripped his highly tuned bullshit detector. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, "It's got a false bottom."

Five minutes of swearing and cursing later, and the hidden contents lay exposed at their feet.

"Please tell me this is some sort of bad dream," Zero screeched.

"They are going to pay," Bobby growled.

The Hercules cargo plane banked left and began its slow decent towards a formidable looking desert. "Let's saddle up gentlemen, we need to be ready to roll," Lester said with a sigh.

The three men smeared on the supplied sun block, fastened the hot pink sarongs about their lean hips and jammed their feet into the bright pink, plastic flip flops.

"Just shoot me now," Zero muttered as he jammed the Glock in the waist band of his ankle length sarong. "I don't think I can live with myself if anyone ever found out about this."

"Suck it up, man," Lester snapped as he split the rest of the items between the three pink and yellow, daisy print beach bags. They had two spare clips for their guns, enough water for two days, malaria tablets, water purification tablets, a Swiss Army knife and food for one day each. The final insult was the neon pink straw hats to keep the sun off them in the hottest part of the day.

"Plan?" Bobby questioned.

"Find civilization, get to a phone and call in the cavalry to come pick us up. We can spend 10 days somewhere warm and then make our way back to Trenton. But we need to lose that fucking tiara first, or we're in for hell on earth and we might have to actually do some work for a change."

Zero looked confused. "Care to explain?"

"Sure," Lester said with a shrug. "Got a mate with a plane. We ditch the tracker, call up my contact and get a lift out of where ever to somewhere little more civilized for a holiday, and then fly back into Trenton on fake passports. Then we go back to the offices, cursing and swearing and spitting mad. The beach holiday gives us an ample amount of time to dream up some horrendous tale of our journey through hell and back. Ric hasn't a clue. He thinks we slog our way across hostile territory and live off roots and berries for three weeks, when in fact we spend quality time on the beach, chilling out and chasing women. Why do you think we pull all that shit at work? It's the only change we get for some decent time off,"

Zero slumped against the wall. "You two are certifiable!"

"Nah, we're just opportunists," Bobby said with a grin.

A/N: Can they remove the tiara from Zero's head? Will they find a phone? And do Rangemen look good in pink? Stay tuned to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The characters belong to JE. No, let's get this right – their names belong to JE, she never even bothered to give most of the delightful Merry Men a personality. The plot is all mine, not that it isn't that hard to tell. Warning for lots of swearing.

**Let Sleeping Tank's Lie – A Cautionary Tale**

**Chapter 3**

The Hercules hit the small, remote runway with a thud and bounced along, hitting ruts and debris every hundred yards or so. Finally, the lumbering plane rolled to a stop, though the pilot didn't cut the four turbo prop engines.

"Come on guys, everybody off," Lester sighed, as he popped the side door open and dropped the steps.

Bobby staggered to the tarmac and dropped to his knees, taking a deep lung full of air in the hope of calming his stomach. He didn't mind flying, but he hated the landing part with a vengeance. Pasty white, hairy legs adorned with pink flip flops came into his field of vision and he looked up at an ill looking Zero. "Don't like the landing part either?" he asked.

"No, that's fine," Zero gritted out, "What concerns me more is that we really are in a third world country - in the middle of nowhere, in a third world country, to be precise. And to make matters worse, I'm wearing a pink sarong and fucking flip flops. I just want to get back to Trenton with my dignity intact."

Lester let lose a bark of laughter. "Dignity? Fuck, man! You left that behind in Trenton. There will have been cameras in the cargo hold and the pilot will no doubt have taken pictures as well. You can bet you last paycheck that Ric and Tank will be laughing their asses off over this later on today."

Zero scrubbed his hands over his face. "But why did we get off the plane, I mean couldn't we just have stayed there?"

Bobby hauled himself to his feet and smiled. "Tried that the first time this happened."

"And?" Zero pressed.

"Got threatened with an AK47 and still got tossed out the back of the plane in Cambodia. Wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference, man."

"And the plane, where's it going now?" Zero queried.

"Who knows, who cares," Lester chimed in. "And don't give me that look, Zero. We are not storming the plane. All bad, that thought. Trust me."

"How, have you tried that before?"

"Cambodia," Lester and Bobby answered in unison.

"Right," Zero muttered. "Anything else I need to know about Cambodia?"

"Nothing that springs to mind right now," Bobby replied.

Lester looked around the shabby airstrip. A forlorn, orange, tattered wind sock hung limply on a pole about twenty feet away to the left, a handful of faded oil drums stood guard around a rusty refueling tank on the other side of the runway, and a dilapidated shack clung to the side of the tarmac fifty feet to the right.

"Let's hit the shed, see if there is anything of use in it. If nothing else, it will provide some cover from the sun," he suggested.

The Hercules had turned around and was about to hit the runway again to take off, as the three men flip flopped their way towards the ramshackle building. As they drew close a voice made them pause, and Lester and Bobby whipped around to face the plane.

"Have a nice trip, guys!" the pilot yelled from the open cockpit window.

"Mac? What the fuck, man," Lester shouted.

The man laughed. "Manoso and Tank send their regards; they look forward to seeing you all in three weeks."

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck," Bobby cursed.

"Damn it, Mac! You're supposed to be on our side. How much to let us back on the plane and take us to somewhere with bars, women and beaches?" Lester hollered.

"Sorry Les, your boss offered to double any amount that you offered. I'm afraid that I won't be saving your ass this time. Best of luck, and all that," Mac grinned as he shut the window and opened the throttle on the engines, letting the plane thunder down the runway and take off into the hot, possibly African sunshine.

"Care to explain?" Zero quizzed once the dust had settled.

Lester ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "That was our ticket out of here. Mac's been the one to pick us up and help us out, but it looks like the boss has bought him off. Shit! That means that Ric must have been on to our plan.

"So, what's the plan now?"

"Plan?" shrieked Bobby, "that was our fucking plan!"

"Oh," Zero whispered as he watched Bobby pace around in small circles and mutter obscenities under his breath. Maybe they were really fucked after all.

"Bobby, knock it off," Lester snapped. "We just need to find another pilot, that's all."

Bobby ignored him and kept pacing around and muttering.

Lester counted to twenty and bitch slapped his partner in the face. "That is not helping, Brown. We have things we need to do. First off, find out where we are, and then work out who to call to get us out of this FUBAR'd situation."

Bobby glared at Les, but nodded and the three of them trooped off to the small building.

It was empty, save a sagging lawn chair and a Playboy calendar displaying June 1997.

Lester eyed the chair with suspicion and settled on leaning against the bare brick wall instead. "So gentlemen, what do we know?"

Bobby rubbed his stubble. "I make it about 9AM Trenton time, so it must be about 2 or 3PM here. I don't think we've gone west, so I suspect that we're in an African country with a western coast."

"Which means that we're in one of around 20 countries, which is not helpful at all," Lester sighed. "Anything else?"

Zero looked at Bobby, who shrugged, and they both looked at Lester. "Great, a lot of help you two are. We got dropped in Sierra Leone last time, so I think we can safely cross that one of the list. Plus no one has shot at us yet, so we can cross a few more off too. I'm down to about 15 countries now, any thoughts?"

Zero and Bobby still looked blank.

"Come on, guys, work with me here," Lester cajoled.

"I think we're lost," Zero offered.

"I think we should start to look for a new job," Bobby muttered.

Lester pulled his Glock and waved it in their direction. "Would you like me to put you both out of your misery?"

"No!" they both yelled.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear," Lester grinned. "Now, we came in from the west and I didn't see any signs of civilization. I say we head east and see what we find. There must be a town or village somewhere, otherwise this airstrip wouldn't be here. Ramblers, let's ramble."

A/N: Are they in Africa? Can they find civilization? And just how are they going to explain their state of dress to anyone they meet? Stay tuned to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Warning as usual for strong language. JE owns the names, but the rest is all mine. Though a few random lines in this story have been borrowed from the fab film 'From Dusk 'Til Dawn.' Give yourself a pat on the back and a cookie if you can spot them. Survival techniques and sneakiness courtesy of Andy McNab's _Bravo Two Zero_

**Let Sleeping Tank's Lie – A Cautionary Tale**

**Chapter 4**

"Can we stop yet?" Zero whined again.

"Are we there yet?" Bobby teased his long suffering partner.

Lester tried to ignore the two comedians walking five paces behind him, but it was getting harder with every irritating comment they made and every step they took. He shut them out of his mind and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He counted his steps in his head, getting to 107 and sliding another knot on the piece of string he held in his left hand through his fingers. He re-started his count at zero again. 107 of his steps was roughly 100m, and the ten knots passed on the piece of string signified a kilometer. Marking distance the lo-tech way. This is nothing, he told himself. He was an ex – Delta – one of America's best, and there was no way on this earth that he was going to let the ex-SEAL and the ex-Ranger, or the lack of equipment get to him. He took another swig of water, and continued to hatch a plan to get them out of there, and first and foremost to remove Zero's bugged tiara.

"I'm bored," Zero griped, "and I need to pee."

Lester span around and glared. "For the love of God, Zero, just shut the fuck up! How the hell am I supposed to fix this mess, when all you have been doing for the past ten clicks is complain and moan. And just take a leak, man. Do you see anybody for miles, who could possibly see, let alone care about the sight of your dick?"

Zero paled at Lester's words, tugged an empty water bottle from his beach bag, and skulked off to about twenty feet away to take care of business, putting his back to them.

Bobby pulled out his own empty water bottle to piss into. Until they knew that they were on friendly territory, it was imperative that they left behind no trace of their passage, hence the need to take a leak into a bottle.

"'Scuse me a sec, bro. I've got to drain the lizard too." Bobby grinned.

"Fine, go!" Lester growled. He rummaged about in his bag for the tenth time, hoping for some divine inspiration in regards to the tracking devise. They could cut through the metal, severing the chip from the tiny battery that they suspected was housed in the ball end of the tiara. But by doing that it would mean that the tracker would stop working, thus signaling to Ric that they had found it. What they really needed to do was remove it and fix it to something else – a car or an animal – something to confuse the boss for 24 hours and get some distance between them and the accursed thing.

His fingers curled around the Swiss army knife again and he extracted it from the bag, turning it over in his hand. Some of the junk on here must be of some use he pondered. If the worst came to the worst, he could always get Bobby to sit on Zero while he used the largest blade to pry the tiara lose from Zero's scalp. Lester had snagged the first aid kit from the cargo hold, so Bobby could always do a patch up job if needs be.

Bobby ambled back over and took one look at Lester's serious face. "Uh oh, I sense trouble, man. What you planning?"

Lester flipped the largest knife open and inspected the blade. "We need to remove that tracer ASAP. I want it attached to the next moving object we come across."

Bobby nodded and glanced over at Zero surreptitiously. "Plan?"

"You sit on him while I lever it off. We've got medical supplies," Lester whispered.

Bobby rolled his eyes and planted his hands on his hips. "Right, so you're telling me that you want to rip the super glue off his noggin, just so I can stick his scalp back together with more super glue?"

Les rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand. "Okay, what do you suggest then?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing! Are you crazy?" Lester hissed.

"Think about it, man. What do we always do? We ditch the tracker within the first few hours of landing. Ric must have figured that out by now, so if we hang onto it, he's got to assume that we're somewhere else. Let's concentrate on finding civilization before it gets dark and cold, okay?" Bobby soothed as he squeezed Lester's shoulder in support. "Besides, give it a couple of days and it should just work its way loose as the skin on his scalp regenerates."

"Okay, I see your point, Bobby. We do need to find shelter soon."

"We will, we just need to keep walking," Bobby stated as he ran his hands through his afro. "Damn this humidity, it's playing hell with my hair."

"It's real good to see that you're keeping things in perspective, man," Les gritted out as he watched Zero walk back over.

"Uh guys, why are you looking at me funny?" Zero crossed his arms over his chest, but the effect was ruined by the pink sarong and flip flops.

Bobby shook his head, but Lester just smiled and shrugged, causing Zero to shuffle uncomfortably.

Bobby rolled his eyes at Les' joking, and patted the third world country escapee virgin on the back. "Look on the bright side Zero, this beats the night shift watching the monitors. You know how dull that can get."

"It was a god damn slow night shift that got us in this mess in the first place. I still can't believe that you two talked me into putting makeup on Tank."

"It needed a pro, Zero. We know that you're a closet Goth, and all Goths wear eyeliner – even the guys. Needed your expert hand on that difficult job," Les retorted.

"Okay, busted. So I know how to put on eyeliner. But you don't think I went too heavy on the blush do you?"

"The blush was fine, man."

"And the eye shadow, the color suited him, right?" Zero queried.

Bobby pondered the question. "I think it did. Brought out his eyes – went well with the lip stick too."

"Gentlemen, the task in hand," Les chided as they slogged to the top of a sand dune. "Fuck, do you two see that?"

"What?"

"There, on the horizon," Lester pointed.

"Shit," Bobby responded as he reached for his Glock.

So, what have they seen? Will they ever get home? And was Tank really wearing too much blush?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is for Kev. She kicked my recalcitrant muse up the arse well and good today. Cheers babe, couldn't have done this without you. I know this started off in jest, but it's about to take a turn towards my usual style of angst, chaos and mayhem. Slaps hand Must stop watching squad movies and Ultimate Force.

The conflict in the following chapters is fiction. The country in question has suffered in the past from civil war, and after a little background reading, I realized that it could easily spark up again. The Red Cross and Medecins Sans Frontieres are real organizations who do sterling work in hostile environments, everything else is from the depths of my dark imagination.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. Glad so many of you like it.

* * *

**Let Sleeping Tank's Lie – A Cautionary Tale**

**Chapter 5**

"_Fuck, do you two see that?"_

"_What?"_

"_There, on the horizon," Lester pointed._

"_Shit," Bobby responded as he reached for his Glock._

Lester put his hand on Bobby's arm. "Put it away, I don't think it's a threat – more like salvation hopefully."

The three men looked down at the small Red Cross centre in the bottom of the next valley. A sea of tents had sprung up around a medium sized wooden shack and a couple of white Land Rover's emblazoned with the Red Cross' insignia were parked up to one side.

"Think we can get a lift into town?" Bobby quizzed as he slid his Glock away.

"Fuck that," Zero announced. "We can try and get some decent clothes and get rid of my tiara. Sound like a plan, guys?"

Lester ran his hands through his long, sweat soaked hair. "We put the weapons away and walk in in a calm manner, asking for the person in charge. Beyond that, we play it by ear."

The other two guys nodded, shouldered their bags and they set off down the long sloping sand dune towards the small oasis and medical facility.

The first thing they noticed was the sound, or lack of it. Over a hundred people were huddled under flimsy canvas structures in the mid afternoon heat, but they seemed too weak to talk let alone move. Even the children that they could see where subdued.

"Where the fuck are we?" Zero whispered.

Lester shrugged. "Pick a third world hell hole that's suffered from years of civil war and I think you'll be getting pretty warm, but beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."

Bobby looked at the mass of people and swallowed a mouthful of bile. One of the things he hated most as a medic in the army was the suffering of innocent civilians. What made it worse was that most of the time he was helpless, and unable to do anything about the situation. Amongst the malnourished he could see people of all ages with limbs missing – most likely from landlines. He detested those accursed things, they hurt more innocent people than the enemy; it wasn't like a landmine could tell if it was an adversary or a child standing on it.

Lester pushed forward through the camp towards the poorly constructed building, when suddenly a tall, thin woman in her ealry thirties, in dark green scrubs strode out the door and headed straight at them. "Arret! Qui êtes-vous ?"

The three men stopped in their tracks and held up their hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Pardon madame, nous sommes perdus. Pouvez-vous aider ?" Zero spoke up from behind the other two guys.

She looked at them quizzically and tossed her long black braid of hair over her shoulder. "American?"

Lester nodded. "Oui, vous parlez anglais?"

"Yes. What are you doing here?"

Lester bit back a smile, least their pink attire wasn't fazing her. "Military training exercise, we got lost and need to get to the nearest embassy so we can get picked up again by our unit. Do you have a phone we can use?"

"Radio. And there are no American embassy in Angola. You sure you are in the army?" She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them a stern glare.

Well, at least they knew where they were now, Lester mused. Shame about the lack of embassies, but they could work around that. He turned on the charm. "Special Ops, madam. Could you be so kind as to let us use your radio? We won't take up any more of your valuable time than necessary."

The woman blinked; it was like some sort of spell was lifted. She waved her hand in their general direction. "What is with the clothes? Maybe you are mercenary, for the opposition. "

Shit, they had no I.D. Lester held his hands up again. "No, we are American. We have no I.D or papers; we are on a training exercise."

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you lose your Gay Pride march, no?"

Zero glared and Bobby rolled his eyes, while Lester tried the charm offensive one more time and held out his hand. "Lester Santos, ma'am. Please, your radio. We need to check in."

"Sacha Blanchard, doctor for Medecins Sans Frontieres," she replied as she shook his hand swiftly. "You may use the radio in my office."

Lester smiled his most blinding smile. "Thank you. Sacha, that is such a pretty name."

"It means defender or helper of the people, and you, Lester Santos are a rouge and I do not trust you or your men. You use radio, then you go"

"Since when did Les end up in charge," Zero bitched.

Bobby flicked his ear, and Zero hissed and batted his hand away.

"He'll be in charge until you develop some brain cells, Z. Which, by all accounts, could be a long time," Bobby gritted out. "I need to go with Lester to deal with the radio, so you stand guard outside the door. Yell if we have any problems."

Zero snapped a mock salute and watched as Bobby, Lester and Sacha went inside the ramshackle building. He leant up against the door jamb and rested his hand on his Glock to ease his nerves. Its touch soothed him slightly, and he let out a long breath.

This whole set up sucked, he decided. What he wouldn't give for a long, hot shower, a pair of comfy sweats and a bottle of Bud. Movement to his left jarred him from his musings. A young boy of about eight, leaning heavily on a crutch and with one leg missing just below the knee made his way over to him slowly.

"Olá!" the little boy said as he held out his free hand to shake.

Zero shook his hand and smiled. "Olá."

"Que é seu nome?"

Zero looked puzzled, so the boy repeated himself.

"Name? Oh, Zero. What about you?" he said as he pointed at him.

The young boy tapped himself on the chest. "Carlos."

Zero ruffled the youngster's hair. "That's a good, strong name you got there, kid."

* * *

French & Portuguese Translations – Courtesy of Babel fish

Arret! Qui êtes-vous ? – Stop! Who are you?

Pardon madame, nous sommes perdus. Pouvez-vous aider ?" – Excuse me madam, we are lost. Can you help?

Oui, vous parlez anglais? – Yes, do you speak English?

Que é seu nome? – What is your name?


End file.
